


Whiplash

by SKJC



Category: Ted Lasso (TV)
Genre: Background Keeley/Roy, Canon-typical swearing, Drunken Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Jamie&Keeley Friendship, M/M, POV Alternating, Past Jamie/Keeley, descriptions of illness, descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKJC/pseuds/SKJC
Summary: After the bonfire in 01x06, the team goes out to continue their celebration with a whole lot more alcohol.Afterwards, Jamie has to process a whole lot of new information.
Relationships: Jamie Tartt/Dani Rojas
Comments: 47
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, I had the idea for this, and said I wasn't going to write it. Then, I wrote out a couple of posts about it on Tumblr, still saying I wasn't going to write it. So, uh, here we are. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Jamie cursed the morning sunlight pouring in through the window as the throbbing in his head woke him up and groaned wordlessly under his breath. His stomach churned unpleasantly and his mouth felt like he’d been chewing cotton wool. 

_Must have got absolutely pissed last night._ He screwed his eyes shut uselessly against the blinding light. He remembered going for shots at the club with most of the team after they’d run out of whatever liquor it was that Rojas had brought out around the fire. Coach had shouted after them not to overdo it but clearly that had gone out the window once they’d gotten there. _Haven’t had a hangover like this since I was still in school._

But there was someone snoring from the other side of the bed, and somewhere in the room, his phone was ringing for at least the third time. He caught a glimpse of wavy black hair splayed across the pillowcases, its owner covered almost entirely by the rumpled sheets, when he finally forced his eyes open. He needed to get up and look for the phone, even if only to turn the ringer off. 

He scooped it up from the floor on the way to the toilet, hoping to brush his teeth without puking his guts out before he could be bothered to deal with it. Right enough, there were three missed calls - his agent’s office, the office at Man City, and his father. _Oh, that's just fucking brilliant._ Every last one of those was a terrible option.

*

Still seething from the phone calls - _can’t believe that twat Lasso_ , _dumping me even after I played his stupid bullshit show-and-tell game -_ Jamie wandered back into his bedroom. The girl from last night was still snoring like a horse, even louder than before. Whoever she was, she needed to go, and he needed to drown himself in coffee and then start packing, because apparently he was due back to Manchester by the end of the week. 

“What the fuck is this?” The pants he’d found on the carpet in his rummaging didn’t fit quite right around his waist or his ass. He yanked them back off and stared at the fabric in his hand. It was blue with shiny gold stripes and he didn’t own anything like that, wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it if he did, so what was going on? From the bits of hazy memories of the night before he could piece together, it had been a mess.

> _He was piling into the back of a taxi van with Colin, Isaac, Richard, Sam, and Rojas. The driver was asking them where they were all going, Isaac was too busy complaining about the shoe he’d lost somewhere in the club to answer, and Rojas couldn’t remember where he lived and kept rattling off an address in Mexico._
> 
> _Then he was stumbling out of the van, Rojas in tow, the pair of them still going on madly about Isaac’s sulking. Then they were drinking beers in his kitchen, found his training bag, started heading a ball back and forth across the room, inventing the rules to a drinking game as they went._

_Oh shit, right_ , Jamie thought, cringing when a bit more of it came back to him. He was going to have to replace those lights. So Rojas was probably passed out downstairs, but who else had he invited over? It wasn’t Keeley’s hair on the pillows and she didn’t snore. He took a step closer to the bed, about to shout something, when the mass of sheets shifted and slid down and he stopped dead in his tracks. 

All of a sudden, Jamie was breathing as hard as if he’d just run twenty laps of the pitch, and he had to sit down. He sank to the floor, head spinning, and it wasn’t the hangover, it was the fact that he’d forgotten how to breathe while his brain restarted like a mobile phone downloading a software update.

> _They were sprawled on the staircase in a heap, howling with laughter, and as their amusement over the broken lamp died down, he was staring at the big lopsided grin on Rojas’ face, and his pulse was pounding in his ears all of a sudden._
> 
> _Then they were pressed against one another, chapped lips moving sloppily against his own, then stumbling into his bedroom, shirt discarded in the hall. A big hand was palming his cock through his trousers and he was groaning, distracted for a second from scrabbling at a belt buckle from what felt like the wrong direction._

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled out loud, head shaking in disbelief. “No fucking way.” 

He had to leave, that was all there was to it. Rojas was still snoring in his bed, there was still a load of busted glass downstairs, and he absolutely had to get the hell out of there before he was forced to figure out what he was doing. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not knowing where else to turn, a struggling Jamie finally gets up the nerve to talk to Keeley about the secret he's been keeping for months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: There are three instances of homophobic language (two of them being a word used in the first episode of canon; the third being something I meant to sound mildly ridiculous in context) in this chapter in the internal thoughts and spoken dialogue of a character struggling with their own sexuality. 
> 
> Anything further I do with this concept is NOT going to be focused on biphobia/homophobia because what a fucking buzzkill, am I right?

The offseason was nearly through and it would be back to training soon enough, but thoughts of what Jamie now referred to in his mind solely as That Night were still creeping into his thoughts on an all-too-regular basis. The longer it went on, the more it got to him.

The weeks immediately after the season were a whirlwind of press tour bullshit, photo shoots and interviews that seemed like they were never going to end. It was exactly what he'd always wanted - but of course all the journos wanted to ask him about was Ted fucking Lasso and the time he’d spent playing for Richmond, and in addition to adding insult to injury, it was, by association, the next-to-last thing he wanted to think about. 

What he really needed long before that point was for someone to reassure him that he wasn’t going absolutely mad, but it was nearly impossible to think of people he trusted to keep any kind of a secret, never mind something like this, and it was too big a risk to take. There might be some poofs playing football in America or somewhere, but it just didn’t happen here, and he didn’t need to be the poster boy for _t_ _hat_ on the front page of _The_ _Sun._

 _But I’m not like_ **_that_** _,_ he reminded himself, another euphemism nested in the mantra that he’d been repeating in his head for months like it would give him the control to erase That Night from existence. He still liked girls, he’d always liked girls, and they liked him too, and it was easy and simple and he preferred it that way.

That thought always brought him back around to Keeley - things hadn’t been simple with her, not exactly, but he was starting to wonder if maybe it wasn’t really supposed to be. She was the first person who ever really figured him out, even better than he ever had, and she’d had a lot of sex so she probably wouldn’t be too judgemental. Talking to her about it was the only possible solution.

But, when he’d gone by her house after the West Ham game, he’d lost his nerve, changed the subject, and they’d ended up sleeping together, which hadn’t been his intent but he wasn’t about to turn her down. Then the other time he’d been over there, the sight of Roy at the door in nothing but his pants and socks had disgusted him so badly he’d almost turned tail and left entirely. 

Now he was stuck in Heathrow after being booked on the wrong return flight from a vacation that had failed spectacularly in taking his mind off things, despite the nightly parties full of beautiful women.

He unlocked his phone and started tapping out a text. 

*

Jamie swore when he parked the hired car outside Keeley’s house. He recognized Roy’s car parked a few spots down, and of course the old fossil would be there again. _Bastard better at least be dressed this time…_

It was a relief when Keeley answered the door herself, as bright as ever, to invite him in for tea. “So, how long are you in town thanks to this little airline cock-up?” She asked, and went to put a kettle on while he sat at the table. “Some of the boys might want to see you, there’s no hard feelings or anything.”

That was a bucket of cold water thrown on him. “No,” he replied, too fast, and she turned to look at him quizzically. “I’m driving back to Manchester tomorrow. Want to see my mum before training and all.” He did his best at a nonchalant shrug, and she shook her head and turned back to the counter.

“Well, you really ought to at least call Ted one of these days,” she said. “He was really proud of you, you know, after everything. I know you still don’t really believe it, but it is true.”

He was about to argue back out of habit that he didn’t need Lasso’s praise when Roy came down the stairs on crutches, and he bit the words back with a scowl. “On your way out, granddad?” 

“Did we send off for a mail-order prick?” Roy glared in his direction but otherwise ignored his comment, addressing Keeley directly, and she shot both of them a stern look in quick succession.

“Oi, both of you, behave. Roy, you’ll be late for the physio.”

“I know.” Roy crossed the room to kiss her goodbye, and Jamie made sure to audibly gag when she reciprocated, but they both ignored him. “I’m off then. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Keeley called after him, and it took Jamie well past when the front door had slammed shut to overcome his shock at what he’d just heard.

“Not wasting any time with the old man, are you?” 

“Did you come all the way down here to talk about me and Roy?” Keeley took a seat opposite the table with two steaming cups of tea. 

“You know I didn’t,” he grumbled, still not quite past the jarring experience of overhearing Roy Kent admit to having emotions. 

“So, what’s so important?”

Jamie picked up the cup of tea she slid in his direction and took a sip, mostly to put off having to say anything for a bit longer, but he absolutely had to get this off his chest or he was going to lose his mind. “I did something stupid,” he said, finally, and Keeley just looked at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“What, you mean in Spain or wherever you went on vacation?” She asked. “I mean, I saw you online with at least three different girls, but it didn’t look any worse than what anybody else got up to.”

“No.” He stopped and shook his head. “I mean, yeah, whatever. But that’s not what I meant.” Trying to keep his racing thoughts in check was already a nightmare and he’d not even begun yet.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready to say what you mean, then.” Keeley smiled and drank from her own cup, taking a look out the back window like she really was willing to sit there and wait for him. 

It turned out she actually was, because there were a couple minutes of silence before Jamie started over. “So, we’re friends now, right?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Right. And your friends can help figure out what to do when you’ve...”

“Done something stupid, we got there before.”

“Right,” Jamie repeated, fingers clenching around the tea cup, before lapsing back into silence again. The way Keeley just kept looking at him, expectantly but not impatiently, was somehow both comforting and annoying. 

“I’m not gay,” he spit out, suddenly, and immediately wished there was a sinkhole to fall into when Keeley’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and she gave a short, surprised chortle of laughter.

“We’ve had sex like, three hundred times, Jamie, I know you’re not gay,” she replied after composing herself for a moment, and wiping up the bit of tea she’d spilled in her surprise. 

“I was absolutely shitfaced, just, completely off my tits, you know?”

Keeley’s eyes widened a bit and she nodded, understanding beginning to show on her face, but she kept quiet and let him continue.

“I never even thought about a guy like that before,” he mumbled after taking a deep, trembling breath, gaze fixed on the tabletop to avoid seeing Keeley’s reaction. “But it all just happened, and now...”

“Now you’re worried?” Keeley asked gently. “Is that it? That this guy might say something?”

“What? No, he’s… It wouldn’t be good for him either.” _Shit,_ he thought, as soon as the words came out of his mouth. Thankfully, if she read anything into it, she didn’t react. “It’s just - what the fuck does that make me now?” 

And there it was, the question he’d been skirting around himself for months on end.

Keeley leaned against the table and tilted her head, regarding him carefully. “Why does it have to make you anything?” She asked, tone calm and even. “Why can’t it just be something you’ve done?”

Jamie opened his mouth to respond and found he didn’t have an answer ready for that. Instead he screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head in his hands. “I don’t know,” he muttered, eventually. “If I did it, and I liked it, then that means something, right?” 

“It might mean ‘something,’ but ‘something’ could be a lot of things.” When he didn’t respond, Keeley cleared her throat and continued, “You do remember I’ve shagged girls before, right?”

Of course he remembered that, he’d been there for it once. “It’s different for you,” he protested. “You lot can be all bi-furious or whatever, but it’s one or the other for us, innit.” 

Keeley stared at him for a moment before stifling a laugh with her hand and shaking her head. “Guys _can_ be bisexual, Jamie, regardless of things you probably saw on the internet, but you don’t have to figure all of that out right now if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to _figure it out_ at all.” He scoffed and shoved back from the table to stand up, pacing his way over to the windows. This feeling of being trapped in something he couldn’t control anymore had been getting to him for a while and he hated it. “I want to forget about it. I want to feel like me again.”

“You’re the same as you ever were. I promise.” Keeley followed him across the room to place a comforting hand on his arm, and she smiled when he looked in her direction. “It’s just… a matter of acclimating, that’s all, whatever you decide to call it.”

“You really believe that?” He couldn’t help being skeptical. She made it all sound so simple. “And what about my career, then? It’s still different for girls, you know, half the women footballers in the world are muff divers but there’s no poofs in the Premier League.”

“Every part of that sentence was offensive, and I’m not certain any of it's true, either,” Keeley chastised him, rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you need to go march in a Pride parade because of a one-night stand. But you’re the only person who can figure out who you are, and it’s worth it, trust me, even if you don’t tell the world once you’ve done it.”

It all sounded smart enough; Keeley was pretty good at smart stuff. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” Keeley gave him a quick hug around his shoulders and went back to the table. “Then once you’re all sorted I can ask you all the things I’m wondering about your fancy man...”

Jamie spun on his heel to glare daggers at her, but her expression made it clear she was just fucking with him, and she began to howl with laughter at his reaction. 

“Not a fucking chance."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude when Dani visits home for the summer.

The offseason for Dani meant a full day’s travel on Aeromexico, but it was worth it to be home. He loved playing abroad, but there was nothing like the streets he remembered from his childhood, the parks he grew up playing in, the walk past his old youth academy. Normally, he didn’t have a whole lot of use for nostalgia for the past, but home was something more.

Home was _tamales_ from street carts and mass on Sunday mornings and his family that was the same as ever. His brothers wanted to tease him for his eight months on the injured list, his sisters wanted to catch him up on all the gossip about their lives, his mother wanted to feed him. _Too skinny, you’re too skinny, all that running,_ she always insisted _, you need to eat more, do they even feed you?_ It never changed and he knew without a doubt that he would miss it when he left it behind again. 

Dani hadn’t really expected Richmond to offer him another contract. Between his on-and-off injury and the inevitable impacts of the team getting relegated, he had assumed that they could probably find a domestic player for their striker spot. So, it was a shock when his agent telephoned asking where she could send the documents, but he was thrilled to be booking a flight back to London either way.

All the posts from the boys on his socials made him even more eager to get back. Everyone’s summer holidays were ending, but the windows into his friends’ lives outside of the pitch was energizing. 

He laughed at Sam’s videos of playing with his cousins, and clicked ‘like’ on Thierry’s photos of the sunsets in Quebec. Richard was island-hopping with models, Colin appeared to have spent the break in every nightclub in Wales, and as far as he could tell, Isaac had been banned from Twitch after his FIFA streams had gotten out of hand. Dani couldn't wait to see them all again.

And once the break began to draw to a close, it was hard to avoid the images of Jamie Tartt posing in the newest version of Manchester City’s sky blue kit. All their players had done promo images, but for some reason, Jamie’s ads kept popping up on his feeds. He blamed geolocation history. 

_Be a goldfish._

Coach Lasso’s advice was excellent but Dani wished he were able to apply it more evenly to other areas of his life.

It wasn’t as though he had never found himself in any other ill-advised situations fueled by alcohol, not to mention the ones that had just been bad decisions. Even so, he’d never woken up alone in someone else’s house before. Usually whoever it was would still be there, usually at least as embarrassed as he was, there was an awkward conversation, and that would be that.

Putting all the pieces together hadn’t been too difficult, although the broken glass in the kitchen had been a little worrisome until he’d also seen the ball wedged in the sink. 

He had still intended to apologize and pretend nothing had happened beyond his being a sloppy drunk, figuring Jamie would be fine to go along with that. They didn’t really know one another really well yet but Dani couldn’t help thinking that he seemed like that type of guy.

Then, with everything else that had happened since, he hadn’t actually _seen_ Jamie again until the final match of the season, and whatever faults he might have, letting something purely personal get in the way of his game wasn’t one of them. 

_It will never come up again, anyway,_ he thought. _Different cities, different divisions. No problem there._

All he had to do was go play football. He could do that. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new fall season doesn't get off to a great start for Jamie.

Getting back to work for the pre-season didn’t entirely take Jamie’s mind off his lingering questions and doubts about himself, but it helped. If nothing else, two-a-day workouts were tiring enough that he couldn’t lie awake worried at night if he tried.

When the starting roster was announced for the season opener and his name was among the substitutes, he did his best to keep his mouth shut and deal with it. The club had their reasons for loaning him out to begin with and he didn’t love being reminded of that, but he was certain they’d have to recognize his value eventually if he did the work. That had never failed him in the past; it was what had gotten him to where he was.

Even after keeping his head down in training, though, he was still on the substitute list for the second game, and now he was livid. All the goals he’d scored last season had to count for something, even compared to some of City’s veterans, but they had their preferred roster and apparently he only made the cut when the results were already a given. 

The third game of the season, finally, he was named for a starting list again. Whether it was because of his performance or the fact that they were playing a club no one was worried about, he didn’t really care. He was desperate for a chance to play a full ninety minutes and it didn’t matter why. 

*

The play was good. He had a clear run up the center and a low cross in at his feet. 

A second to set up the shot, left foot planted in the grass with his right lined up behind the ball.

A flash of a defender’s shirt in the corner of his vision.

And then he was flat on the ground, breath knocked out of him, lightning bolts of pain shooting up his left leg. Spots danced in his vision as he tried to force air into his lungs, and he curled onto his side and clutched helplessly at his ankle where it felt as though a set of studs had gone straight through his bones.

“Shit,” he managed to groan once he could finally suck in a full breath again. There were people all around, shouting and yelling, and someone had a hand on his shoulder, stopping him trying to get up.

He was vaguely aware that the whistle had been blown - a yellow for the defender, he found out later - and a penalty called, but he wasn’t going to be the one taking it, not when he couldn’t even stand. 

What seemed like a hundred medics ushered him off the pitch and into the depths of the facility for concussion check and x-rays and whatever sorts of scans they needed to do, but it was all a blur, like he was watching it all happen to someone else. 

He was shivering, and dizzy, and couldn’t be sure if it was a head injury or if he was just in shock. A nurse put a blanket over him. No one told him not to go to sleep. _They tell you that if your brain’s hurt, yeah?_

Torn ligaments, that was the final verdict, and the doctors strapped his lower leg and foot into a rigid boot and sent him home with a pair of crutches and a workbook titled _“Grade III Lateral Ankle Sprain Sport Injury Protocol.”_

The book was full of a lot of words that he didn’t understand, but the notes penciled in on the first pages were clear enough to make him feel sick. 

_Weeks 0-4: Full protection _

  * _Avoidance of all weight-bearing activity on affected joint_


  * _Application of ice, compression, and elevation following attached schedule_


  * _Weekly evaluation to determine next steps_



It went on from there with sections for what he would have to do in six weeks, eight weeks, twelve, each heading subtitled with "pending further evaluation" in brackets underneath. 

Even in a best case scenario, it was going to be months before he’d even have a chance of seeing minutes in a match again. _Fuck._

*

 **Premier League News** @PLBreakingNews • 29 Aug 

“Jamie Tartt is still undergoing evaluation by the medical team,” say representatives from Manchester City, after the young striker’s apparent injury in the 73rd minute of today’s match. 

***

> **Keeley**
> 
> How are you??? The media’s being so dodgy about it and we’re all worried! 
> 
> _Me_
> 
> Can’t play for three months, so pretty shit.
> 
> Who the fuck is we?
> 
> **Keeley**
> 
> _[image of Ted, Beard, and Roy sitting in the Richmond offices. Ted is making a heart-hand gesture while Beard gives a thumbs-up. Roy is scowling directly into the camera.]_
> 
> _Me_
> 
> Jesus Christ

***

As the weeks of his recovery went on, Jamie was practically climbing the walls. Scheduling his days around sessions of cold therapy and letting the physios move his ankle around until they were satisfied bored the hell out of him. He could see first team doing drills from certain windows in the treatment rooms, and it only made him feel trapped in a cage. 

It also left him entirely too much time to think about things he didn't want to think about. Especially when the new massage therapist, a dark-haired man with an easygoing laugh and wide, ever-present grin, became a constant reminder of someone else he barely fucking knew but still couldn't evict from his mind.

Finally, after a while, he had permission to spend some time on the training bikes and in aquatic rehab where he could actually put weight on his foot, but the process was still going too slow for his taste when he still had to watch every match day from the stands. 

Then, he got a call from the staff offices at City, one of the assistant coaches asking how he was, how were things going, and a load of other bullshit small talk before they got to the point.

“Well, as I’m sure you know, the docs are still waiting on signing you off for modified reserve training, but when that time comes, our big concern is giving you whatever you need to get back to full fitness, and we’re just not sure that the roster would allow for much match time once you recover...”

Jamie’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t like he thought he’d be starting after he got better, but it sounded like they weren’t even planning to find a way to play him at all. 

“And as it turns out, we’ve cleared the air with Rebecca Welton over at AFC Richmond about the whole mess last spring. Always did think it was odd, the way she rang us up out of nowhere to inquire about terminating your loan, but they still like you down there...”

“What? No, you lot wanted me back here and Lasso was looking to teach me some kind of lesson anyway,” Jamie interrupted. That didn’t make any sense. Why would Ms. Welton have anything against him? He only ever really dealt with her ex-husband when he was signing his loan contracts to begin with, only talked to the man a handful of times besides then, and he barely ever spoke to her either. And what the hell did this have to do with anything? 

“Actually, it seems they just had a sort of miscommunication over there. Not the most professional situation, but we’ve got it sorted, and that American gaffer actually turned out to be all right in the end, all things considered, really likes you a lot, as I’ve said…”

*

 **Premier League News** @PLBreakingNews • 14 Oct 

Déjà vu, anyone? Manchester City and AFC Richmond reach a new loan agreement for the still-injured Jamie Tartt. Will a stint in the Championship help or hinder his recovery? Only time will tell!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the show is set in an AU of actual reality (which I think we're all thankful for), I looked up last year's Premier League schedule to figure out when a normal year begins rather than using the real 2020 dates... But I'm still using this year's late domestic transfer window (which only went into October because of 2020 being a shitshow) as a plot device. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> tl;dr - realism? who needs it?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dani finds out that Jamie will be coming back to Richmond, attempts a great deal of internal rationalization, and extends an olive branch.

Dani’s morning routine was pretty simple - First thing was to take note of whether or not his knee ached when he got out of bed to head for the washroom. Then it was coffee and whatever was on his meal plan for breakfast, followed by a quick run to finish waking up before he had to head out to the pitch. Besides his alarm and his music, he wasn’t really in the habit of spending a whole lot of time looking at his phone in the mornings.

So, when he showed up for training on Thursday, he didn’t really notice that the buzz of chatter in the locker room was any different than usual. His headphones obscured some of the noise anyway, and besides, a lot of people talking at the same time usually went faster than his understanding of everything that was being said. 

“Oi, bruv, you seen the news?” Isaac dropped down onto the bench next to him as soon as he pulled out his earbuds.

“No, I have seen nothing.” Dani tossed the contents of his pockets into the locker and started changing into his training kit. “Why?”

Isaac held up his phone, screen opened to a Twitter headline that read “ _Manchester City and AFC Richmond reach a new loan agreement for the still-injured Jamie Tartt!_ ”

Dani looked it over a couple of times to make sure he understood. “I don't think that makes any sense.” He shook his head. Jamie hadn’t been all that happy to play for Richmond even when they were still in the top flight. 

“It’s all over the internet, innit,” Isaac said, scrolling the screen a bit and flashing another set of headlines in Dani’s face, all of which repeated the same news with a variety of jokes about it. 

“You really shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet,” Sam chimed in from the end of the row. 

“It’s on all the blue check feeds!” 

Dani looked at the phone screen once again and then nudged Isaac out of the way to sit and lace up his boots. “Well, we will find out, yes?” 

Even if the headlines were right, it didn’t really make all that much difference, he told himself, and if they could get past his stupid drunken mistake, it might be nice to get to know Jamie better. They’d only had a few training sessions together in the spring, but as far as Dani was concerned, he didn’t seem to be nearly as bad of a guy as he acted like he wanted people to think he was. 

Plus, he was a hell of a footballer, and once he recovered from that injury - and Dani was still convinced that the defender should have been sent off - they could probably put together an attack that would be sure to score some goals up and down the schedule. That would be worth whatever awkward conversation he might have to endure.

Everyone was just about dressed by the time the office door opened and the coaches came out, and Dani grinned. They would definitely put the facts right in the room, regardless of what was going on. 

“Good morning, fellas.” Ted looked around the room. “Now I know y’all have probably been reading all kinds of stuff, so before we get started, we ought to set the record straight.”

The talk around the room quieted as most of the heads turned towards the front. 

“Yes, it is true that Jamie will be coming back.”

And the room erupted into a cacophony of chatter again as questions were shouted from all sides.

“But isn’t he still hurt?”

“Does this mean I’m back in the midfield?”

“Did Jamie actually agree to this?”

“That’s enough!” 

“Thanks, Coach.” Ted gave a nod in Beard’s direction, where he had already gone back to writing on the whiteboard. “Anywho, I talked to Jamie myself last night, and he’s doing pretty good, looking forward to getting well enough for practice. Can’t say he’s exactly happy with the situation but we hashed a lot of things out.” 

Dani chuckled, because that sounded like an understatement, and the rest of the guys looked skeptical too. Still, the news that Jamie was doing well was good to hear. 

“As for the questions about the roster, well, we’ve still got a couple of weeks before we gotta worry about that. What we don’t have a couple weeks to worry about is this weekend’s game, so how about we get out there and get some work done?”

*

Over the next several days, Dani gradually made the decision to lift his personal moratorium on looking at Jamie Tartt’s social media. He’d imposed the restriction back in the spring, thinking, _what the eye doesn’t see, the mind doesn’t worry about_. But, he was curious now what sorts of things Jamie had to say about the current situation.

The only posts about the loan turned out to be surprisingly tame, and it made him wonder about the conversation that might have occurred in Coach Lasso’s phone call. There were some retweets of news announcements, a handful of retweets of confused and angry City fans, and a screenshot of Richmond’s current second-place position on the Championship table. The rest of the feed was predictable, and much like his own in that it was primarily commentary on football and posts that were definitely part of sponsor contracts.

He found a post from early September - a video captioned with the words _“think my boot’s still out on the pitch somewhere” -_ and he cringed when he realized it was a fan’s mobile phone recording of the foul that had caused Jamie’s injury. His recollection of it was accurate enough. 

After a moment, he tapped on the retweet icon and added a comment of his own in the box. He read it over twice, thumb hovering over the button to send the post, having something of an internal argument. 

_You’re going to have to talk to him eventually, and this is about as neutral as it can get,_ he finally convinced himself. It was true, football was the one thing he knew they had in common, and anyone with eyes could tell that tackle was reckless. He tapped the button, then silenced his phone. 

> **Dani Rojas** ✓ @drojas14 • 19 Oct
> 
> Even now it is still hard to believe!!! 2 feet with studs up high must be 🔴🔴🔴. See you back soon, _amigo!_

Several hours later, he checked the notifications out of sheer curiosity.

> **Jamie Tartt** ✓ and 1.4k others liked your Tweet. 

The relief he felt at that was far too great for the insignificance of a Like on Twitter, but it was definitely for the sake of the team, or so he tried his best to believe. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Jamie's first couple of weeks back at Richmond, he gets back to training, watches a match, and has a conversation that isn't what he was expecting.

It was a grey Monday morning, and Jamie sat in his car in the lot behind the AFC Richmond training pitch, willing himself to just get out, take his bag, and go inside. In the last couple of weeks, he’d felt torn in just about every possible direction.

His dad was fucking furious and he still wasn’t sure if he was included in that or not, didn’t really care besides the fact that he had to listen to the endless stream of angry bullshit when the old asshole came around his flat to rant and rave. At least now that he was back in London, it was limited to the telephone. 

Meanwhile, his mum was still acting like he’d nearly died from a hurt ankle and a knock to the head, like he’d never taken an injury before. Every time he brought up playing again, she changed the topic, and eventually he was going to have to stop calling her every day just to reassure her he was all right. 

All the things Lasso had told him on the phone still made his head spin. After all the shit he’d talked, he couldn’t believe anybody on the team would want him back there, Lasso especially. But no, the gaffer had just gone on like it was all nothing, saying how sorry he was to hear about Jamie’s injury, praising his performances with City, talking the timetable for when he’d be ready to play again. 

_Who even acts like that?_ He leaned back in his seat with a long sigh and covered his face with his arms. And would the rest of the lads be so forgiving when he’d been such a prick back in the spring?

The fact of the matter was that he hadn’t been allowed to do anything beyond physical therapy and light workouts for the last two months, and he was dreading having to work his skills back up to form in front of them, regardless whether they liked him or not. 

Then there was Rojas, who apparently looked him up online, and he still wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. The idea of looking out of shape in front of him bothered Jamie even more than it did with the others, and it made his stomach do uncomfortable flips when he thought too long about why that was. 

All of a sudden, a knock at the window interrupted his thoughts, and he jumped and then swore when he saw Colin and Isaac just outside, already taking the piss.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!” 

“Oi, you already forget where the locker room is?” 

Jamie scowled and held up both middle fingers for a moment before he finally got out of the car, and laughed a little bit along with them in spite of himself. 

When the group of them got inside, there were only a few others there, his training kit was laid out in the same spot it used to be, and he stood in the doorway and stared for a minute. Being back there, everything the same except for himself, was a surreal experience. It was almost as though he was looking at the place and the people with different eyes, and that was something he’d been feeling a lot this year. He was really getting tired of it.

He was mostly dressed, busy changing the brace on his ankle out for a lighter one, when he looked up to see Rojas standing in the doorway, white earbud cables hanging out from under the contrast of his hair. Was it longer than it had been in the spring? Jamie wasn’t sure.

_Why the fuck am I wondering about his fucking hair?_

“Ay, welcome back, _amigo_! Good to see you in our colors again.” 

“Thanks,” Jamie muttered, mouth dry, and immediately turned his full attention back to getting his boots on. That moment had seemed like it was way too long, and his pulse raced in his veins as he worried if anyone else had seen it, whatever it might have been for them to see.

Thankfully not even Rojas seemed bothered, with his usual ear-to-ear smile in full effect while he walked over to his own locker, already busy chatting with Sam about a goal from last Saturday’s match. 

*

He was already exhausted before the lunch hour rolled around. His legs felt like lead weights, his lungs were stinging from breathing the cold air, and the last thing he wanted to do was stop. He was only cleared for sprints and drills, but being allowed to do any of it at all was like being offered a glass of water in the desert as far as he was concerned. 

No matter how many times Rojas, or Colin, or even fucking Sam flicked the ball between his feet in rondos and laughter rang out across the pitch. 

“Figured you’d want us to treat you all normal like!” Colin shouted after pulling off yet another nutmeg on him, just before the whistle went off to end morning training.

“Fuck off,” he yelled back, grinning even though he could barely catch his breath. It turned out that was exactly what he wanted, even if it was a little humiliating. It was still so much better than sitting at home.

*

Jamie hadn’t actually watched any of Richmond’s matches in the Championship yet. His first weekend back, they were away at a small club and he didn’t bother to travel since he wasn’t medically approved to play. The next weekend, they were at home, he had the option to sit in the stands if he wanted to, and he had to admit, he was curious.

The first thirty minutes or so were a whole lot of scuffling in the midfield, neither keeper having to do much work, neither side gaining much ground. Shots were off target and challenges were half-hearted, like the men on the field were testing each other out. Jamie knew the feeling.

In the 36th minute, though, the home crowd was on their feet shouting triumphantly when Rojas put a screamer into the back of the net, served by Colin straight by two defenders. 

Nobody was ever satisfied with one-nil, Jamie knew that too. If you were the ones behind, that was when the adrenaline kicked in to fight to keep it alive. But if you were the ones ahead, you’d just drawn first blood and you were hungry for more. 

Sure enough, by the end of the half, Richard had put another past the keeper off a corner kick, and Jamie almost wished he could go get a beer like a regular supporter during the break.

When play resumed, there was no time wasted. It was clear from the first whistle that Richmond would emerge victorious and it was just a matter of by how much. 

In the 60th and 63rd minutes, Rojas finished up a hat trick with two more goals coming in quick succession. He was easy to follow on the field, and it looked like he was catching defenders asleep on the ball. 

Part of Jamie’s brain hated the fact that he actually felt a little in awe of the performance when he’d put up showings just as good himself.

It almost looked as though the other side had given up, and Jamie’s ribcage felt too small as his heart hammered against it. He had to get back out there. It wouldn’t be next weekend, or probably not even the one after, but the doctors had to clear him before he went fucking insane. 

The final tally was five-nil, with Sam getting one more into the net in the 89th minute. A clean sheet and three points. Jamie shook his head in disbelief as the whistle blew, and watched everyone whoop and yell in celebration along with the supporters chanting and singing in the seats. 

He got up, fully intending to go to the locker room to congratulate them like he knew he should, but instead, he ended up out on the training pitch somehow, sitting on the cold ground at the corner of the penalty area, staring into the net. Most of the floodlights were off, but there was still enough light to see by coming from the stadium and the offices. 

Flashes of the match replayed through his mind and god, he wished he’d been out there. Maybe he was a conceited prick but the crowds and the goals and the chanting meant he was _good enough_. More than anything, that was what he missed. 

“It is too cold to sit out here all night!”

Jamie nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus, mate,” he managed after a minute, “don’t sneak up on people.”

“Sorry.” Rojas sat down next to him, just over arms’ length away. He looked strange, almost alien, to Jamie in jeans and a jacket, like his football kit was his natural skin and this was a costume he put on the rest of the time. 

_Do I ever look that way to other people?_ He pushed the thought away, down into the depths. 

“That was a brilliant match. Could barely believe my eyes.”

Rojas laughed, a long, low sound as he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, looking towards the net just like Jamie was. “Football is life.”

Jamie snorted. “Then how’d you manage this for eight fucking months?”

“Doing it twice takes even more time.” 

The words were strangely philosophical in his lilting accent, and Jamie nodded absently. It felt like there was something else lingering in the silence but he didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to say much else anyway. 

“I hope you will win some trophies with me this year, Jamie Tartt.” Rojas sounded wistful while he gazed out across the dark pitch. His hair still looked damp from the showers and it was definitely longer than it had been in the spring.

Jamie tried to swallow past the lump that was lodged in his throat and considered that, all of it, for a moment. “Much as I hate to say it, I think you could take the Championship without me.” And he did hate to say it, it actually pissed him off a little, but it was probably true.

Another low laugh, short this time. “Maybe yes. But, what do you think about winning the FA Cup?”

“I think you’re fucking bonkers, mate.” Jamie didn’t have to consider that response for even a second. “It’s been forever since anybody outside the Prem won the Cup.”

“I know.” Rojas nodded and looked over at him, back to his usual grin. “My brothers, they make fun of me all summer, you know?” He put on a mocking tone. “‘Dani, Dani, you go all the way to England to get injured and get relegated, you could have done those things here at home,’ and I think to myself, well, they are right, that was silly.”

Jamie wanted to ask if his brothers were footballers too, or about what really did bring him to England, but none of those things seemed like where this was going. Instead, he rolled Rojas’ first name around in his mind a bit the way it had rolled off the man’s lips. _Dani_. 

“So, yes, win the Championship, get promotion, of course,” he continued. “But, I will ask again: What do you think about winning the FA Cup?”

“You really think that’s possible?” Jamie had really thought he’d already hit his limit for disbelief for one day, but this was definitely above and beyond it. 

“I think anything is possible in football.” With that, Rojas got to his feet and shivered. “Think about it, _amigo_. I will see you Monday, yes?”

“Right.” Jamie watched him walk away, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, breath visible in the chill air.   
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dani gets his answer and an understanding is reached.

Dani was used to certain things still lingering when he awoke the morning after a match. The euphoria of a win, the sting of a loss, the weary aches spread over his whole body that were present either way.

Today, though, he was left with considering how his heart had felt a little bit broken when he’d seen Jamie sitting on the training pitch in the dark, small and sad and so very different from the man he expected to see wearing England’s three lions crest one day. 

Without the lingering high from the win coursing through his veins that night, he might have been too big a coward to walk out there at all. There had been enough boundaries broken with too few mended. But it was all too familiar to him, the way Jamie must have been feeling, what it was like being too strong a spirit temporarily trapped in too weak a form. 

Whatever it had been that inspired him to ask Jamie to win the FA Cup together with him like it was some kind of romantic proposal, though, he couldn’t put a name to it. 

*

By the time the first of December rolled around, Dani definitely preferred running on the treadmills in the gym in the mornings rather than braving the cold outdoors. If he arrived early enough, he could have the room to himself for at least an hour, and no one would complain if he happened to sing along too loudly to his music. 

He was in the middle of the Latin Pop Songs of the Year playlist on Spotify when someone started up the treadmill next to him, and he took out his earbuds when he saw that it was Jamie.

They hadn’t really talked extensively since life had gone on past that absurd moment in time they had shared, but they hadn’t really avoided each other either. It had been an odd limbo of existing in the same space, each connected pass on the pitch feeling like another step forward with the destination still undetermined. 

“Docs finally said I’m okay for the roster this weekend.”

Relief flooded through Dani at the words. There were no doubts in his mind of Jamie’s ability, but injuries could be unpredictable. “Good to hear it,” he replied, grateful for the mild exertion to disguise the emotion in his voice.

Jamie made a vague sound of agreement that may or may not have been words, and then for a minute, the room was quiet, save for the whir of the treadmills’ motors and two sets of trainers rhythmically impacting the belts. 

“Are your brothers footballers too?” 

The question was abrupt, and Dani shot a questioning look at Jamie, who in turn looked down at the machine console, slightly muted when he spoke again.

“You mentioned them after the Rotherham match.” 

“I did, you surprised me.” He hadn’t forgotten that conversation at all, and he definitely didn’t want Jamie to feel bad for bringing it up again. “They are, and my sisters also.”

“How many of you are there?” 

Dani slowed the pace of the treadmill so he could talk more easily. This was new between them; he was the one who spoke this casually, but it was always strictly about the game. “Carlos is oldest, then me, Alejandra, Martín, and Gabriela.” 

“Huh. Was just my mum and me back home.” There was a tinge of melancholy in Jamie’s voice for a moment that disappeared as quickly as it came. “They all play in Mexico?”

“Gabi plays in a university in America. She is the smart one.” Dani chuckled when he thought of his youngest sister, never without a ball or a book, sometimes both at the same time. “The others, yes, but poor _Mamá_ still sees us all together only at the summer.”

“Your dad not around, then?” 

The melancholy in Jamie’s voice had returned, and out of the corner of his eye, Dani could see a tightness in his expression as well. 

“Well, my father was never a family man.” Dani did his best to make it sound lighthearted. He didn’t really know the story with Jamie’s dad, but from what he’d heard around the locker room, it wasn’t a very good one. " _Mamá_ put up with it when we were all young. These days, no.”

Jamie made another vague noise at that, and then the room lapsed back into the relative silence of the equipment. Dani chanced another sideways look, but there was nothing else he could read on Jamie’s face, and he wondered if maybe that hadn’t been the right thing to say.

All of a sudden, though, a sharp gasp and a pained groan got Dani’s attention, and he hit the emergency stop on both treadmills in quick succession as Jamie stumbled off the other one. 

“Sit, sit.” He helped Jamie to the weight bench nearby, panic only slightly alleviated once he realized it was his right leg he was limping on, not the injured left. 

“I’m all right, it’s just a fucking cramp, shit, I’m fine.” Once Jamie was seated, he bent forward to pull his toes back. 

“Let me.” Dani knelt down and swatted Jamie’s hands away to lift his heel off the floor and extend his leg further, then repeated the motion himself instead, gently bending Jamie’s foot into an arch to stretch out the muscles and tendons. 

“I know how it works, Rojas.” The protest still came through clenched teeth.

“Then straighten your leg more,” Dani insisted, and moved his other hand up the back of Jamie’s calf to massage the knot in the muscle. Jamie’s head fell back and he hissed and swore, but he pressed his foot harder into Dani’s hand anyway.

It took a minute for Jamie’s breathing to go back to normal and the discomfort to fade from his features, and then Dani was acutely aware of the fact that he was on his knees in the gym in front of a man with whom his relationship was still too complicated to describe. 

There was nothing to helping someone with a muscle cramp; the gesture was likely just as common to Jamie as it was to him. It was something everyone did, and no one would ever think anything of it. Despite that, when a door slammed elsewhere in the facility, both of them jumped.

Dani could hear his own pulse pounding as he hopped to his feet and took a step back. He took a deep breath and forced a smile to his face.

“You should get something to drink, or eat, I think.” 

It was a trivial thing to say, a bit of rambling to distract himself. The ridiculousness of it made him recall a phrase from the idioms section of his English app about _teaching your grandma to suck eggs_ and he was sure Jamie would say something to that effect. 

Instead, it was just a mumbled, “Good idea, that,” and Jamie got carefully to his feet, testing his weight on both legs almost like he was expecting one or the other not to work. Dani rejected the impulse to offer him a hand up in the process.

“I never said I am sorry,” he said, on a whim, and he cringed when Jamie shot him a look of utter confusion. “Ah, you know, back in the spring. For... wrecking your kitchen.”

If the whole damned situation didn’t have him feeling like he was fourteen with a crush on his team captain again, Dani might have laughed at the way Jamie stared blankly for a second before his eyes widened in understanding. 

Instead, he held his breath while he hoped Jamie was processing what he really meant, that he wasn’t actually talking about broken glass.

Jamie cleared his throat, and his eyes darted from the weight rack, to the floor, to eventually meeting Dani’s gaze. “I think we both did that, yeah?”

Dani nodded slowly, absorbing the meaning of the response in turn. “Yes,” he answered, and it felt as though it had taken far too long to get his mouth to form the word. 

“So… don’t worry about it.” Jamie shrugged, turned, and walked towards the door. When he reached it, he paused and turned back in Dani’s direction. “Something I forgot to say, actually.”

Dani’s breath caught in his throat, and he must have looked alarmed or shocked, because Jamie laughed. 

“About your mad idea that we could win the Cup, not about my fucking kitchen.” 

“Ah, of course.” Dani gave a sigh of relief. He may have been the one to bring up the other thing, but ridiculous or not, this was a much more comfortable topic. “And, what do you think?”

“I still think you’re mental,” Jamie said, an emboldened smirk spreading across his face. “But I think I’ve lost my fucking mind too, so let’s give it a shot.”

Now that was the man that Dani had seen little glimpses of for the last several weeks, and he grinned widely as Jamie left. “I will see you on the pitch,” he called after him.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to one of my real-life coworkers, who grew up in Guadalajara, for allowing me to use the names of her brothers and sisters so I didn't have to invent names for Dani's siblings!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie finally gets back on the pitch for Richmond, the new year starts, and the team bus gets stuck in traffic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm setting up for a plot that's going to be here...? Also, please note that I have no canon reason whatsoever for Jamie to hate Liverpool.

By the time the first half whistle blew and the team marched to the locker room, Jamie was as frustrated and antsy as everyone who’d been playing, despite knowing from the beginning that he was only going to start the second half. The ground was a muddy mess from the all-day drizzle of rain, Richmond had given up a couple of chances to offside calls, and the opposition wanted to play rough, fouling them hard enough and often enough to earn two yellow cards before the break.

While Lasso gave the morale-booster speech and everyone was regrouping, Jamie watched across the room where Dani was towelling forty-five minutes worth of rain out of his hair.

He felt as though he might have finally reached a point of acceptance with his fascination with Dani’s hair, even if he still didn’t want to consider what it meant that he wanted to run his fingers through it, and regretted not really being able to remember whether or not he _had_. He could definitely remember warm hands on his skin a few mornings ago, though, and how he’d been a little thankful for the pain that had distracted him from actually doing it then. 

_Can’t fucking think about_ **_that_ ** _right now_. He focused his attention on the conclusion of Lasso’s admittedly not entirely terrible speech instead. 

When Dani turned to throw the towel into a cart, Jamie noticed a bruise forming on the side of his face where he collided with one of the defenders who’d been cautioned. He thought about that for the space of a few seconds, thought about the morning in the gym again despite himself, and then he went into the treatment room to dig through the physio bags for a quick-snap cold pack. 

Dani shot him a confused look when he handed it over, and he shrugged, unusually self-conscious all of a sudden. Giving a shit about what his actions looked like to other people was exhausting. 

“Take it.” Jamie gestured at the mark. “Looks like you were in a fucking pub brawl.” 

Dani’s brow furrowed and he touched his own discolored cheekbone and winced. “Ah, so I will look rough and handsome in all the photos.” He grinned wryly, and then pressed the cold pack to the same spot on his face, sucking in a breath through his teeth. 

“Might take more than a shiner to do that,” Jamie joked, because it was the normal sort of banter he’d say to anyone else, though maybe a bit nicer. He was _not_ going to wonder what those post-match images might look like right now. 

“You hurt my feelings,” Dani cried mournfully, giving a dramatic performance of clutching at his chest, and they both laughed. “Make it up to me out there, yes?”

Jamie still wasn’t as quick as he wanted to be, as he had been before the injury, but he could make it work. They’d been training several passing formations for the last couple of weeks while he’d worked his fitness back up. “I’ll find you.” 

It took until the 83rd minute but he made good on that. Dani brought a long pass down just outside the box with a single touch and whipped around, seeking him out. He checked the position of his defender - _onside_ \- and, as soon as the ball left Dani’s foot, dashed forward with all the strength he could muster to meet the shot and deflect it into the back of the net.

The supporters erupted into deafening screams and chants and Jamie roared along with them, every nerve in his body alive with the rush. He didn’t do all of the flamboyant jumping into your mates’ arms shit, all the lads knew that, he’d cut it out back in his U18 days to look more dignified.

But when Dani closed the gap between them and slung an arm around Jamie’s shoulders before pumping a fist in the air, all of it turned to a buzz of white noise in his ears. He was wet, cold, barely pulling a win out of a bullshit match against a mid-table club in fucking December, and it was _perfect_. 

“Incredible,” Dani said - nearly shouted, due to the noise, even though he was just next to Jamie’s ear, and thankfully, before Jamie could react, he was entirely that beaming grin again as he darted back to his spot for the restart.

*

They played four more times that month, and now again as soon as the new year had begun. Jamie’s life was basically back to normal with playing, if not starting, every match. Early in his recovery, the doctors had mentioned the possibility of needing surgery if the ligaments hadn’t healed right, and he’d been dreading that ever since. But, his ankle felt good and his sprint times were better than they’d been in the preseason, and that was one burden lifted off his shoulders. 

The one that remained was that he still couldn’t sort out his mind when it came to Dani. Things between them ought to be settled, he thought. They had this version of whatever a friendship was if it was built on a couple of months of training together and a combined fifteen goals in six matches between them. 

The celebrations were always simple, with Dani swooping in to call him incredible, perfect, and words in Spanish he didn’t understand, but always combined with that smile that could light a stadium. It was stupid, he already knew how good he was, and he was a a professional. Simple praises shouldn’t fluster him.

Then in training, they spent time together for passing and shooting, sometimes sprinted together, sometimes paired up for morning warm-ups. Plenty of times, though, Dani gravitated towards people at random instead, and the way that bothered him a little only served to make him feel stupid when he thought about it. 

_He’s your teammate, not your fucking boyfriend._

The fact that Jamie even had to issue that reminder to himself was ridiculous. How many girls had he fooled around with and never called again? Even if he _was_ into guys, a possibility he was still dealing with, hooking up with someone once ten months ago didn’t mean anything. 

It had occurred to him that he didn’t even actually know for certain if Dani was into guys either. It seemed like a crazy thing to wonder about, but if he still wasn’t sure what he was, how could he assume anything about somebody else? For all he knew, they were both in the same situation. 

Jamie could count the things he did know about Dani on his fingers: He was a great striker and football ran in his family. He loved music and didn’t like the cold. He still did extra work on his dodgy knee, and never complained about ice baths even though he hated them. His father sounded like a piece of shit, but really, whose wasn’t?

_He sleeps with his head under the blankets and snores as loud as a lorry, and you want to touch his fucking hair._

_Fuck._

None of it was what he should be thinking on the bus while they sat in standstill traffic on the M4. Coming off the day’s scoreless draw at Cardiff had him agitated and annoyed, that had to be the reason all of this was surfacing in his thoughts again.

In an effort to distract himself from staring out the windows and getting even deeper into his own head, he pulled his phone out of his bag and looked through his notifications. Another text from his mum, which he answered. Match results on Twitter, nothing he cared about right now, it didn’t matter to their place on the table anyway. There was a ‘you may be interested in’ that he was tagged in, and the link went to a YouTube video on the AFC Richmond channel.

It clicked when he saw the intro that this was a project Keeley had been working on, a game where the gaffer watched a slideshow of everyone’s childhood photos to guess who was who. She’d begged him for one and he’d refused, so he immediately scowled when one of him came up on the screen anyway. He was in his uniform shirt and trousers from year six, grubby and with shaggy fringe, leaning against a metal gate with a smirk on his face. 

The next image after Lasso guessed his right was clearly a young Isaac, sat on the floor in the middle of a messy bedroom with a PlayStation controller in his hands. After that was Zoreaux, who’d been such a tiny kid that it looked absurd when a current photo of him came up next to the old one, and then Richard, who didn’t look like his hair had changed at all since he hit puberty.

Dani’s was the last one, and no one could have guessed it was anyone else anyway, because his smile gave him away. In the photo, he was maybe thirteen years old, wearing an oversized Liverpool shirt while hanging from the crossbar of a goal with both hands.

There was no way Jamie was going to let the shirt pass without a comment. He paused the video, scanned two rows up the coach where Dani was leaned up against the window watching something on his iPad, and moved to the empty seat beside him.

“Liverpool, really?” He asked, shoving his phone in front of the tablet screen.

Dani’s brow furrowed for a moment as he studied the smaller screen and pulled out his earbuds. “If you supported United, we may not be able to be friends,” he replied, tone fake-serious, eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Why would you ever be a Liverpool supporter outside of fucking Liverpool?” Jamie scoffed and shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket. 

“I like their song,” Dani replied simply, and arched an eyebrow like he was expecting Jamie to challenge him on it, but it was such a ridiculous argument that he couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Instead, he just sat back in the seat and shook his head, adding it to the mental list of things he knew, even though he didn’t entirely believe that was the reason. Dani watched him curiously for a minute before picking the iPad back up and unlocking the screen. 

“What were you watching?”

“You mean, when you came to bully me?” Dani leaned over to elbow him playfully in the shoulder, and Jamie grumbled in protest, even though the casual contact tied his stomach in a knot.

“Point out your shit taste, more like.”

“My sister’s _Apertura_ final, from the fall tournament,” Dani continued, cheerfully ignoring his complaint. “I am late a month to see it.”

“Oh.” 

“It's okay, I think we will be here a while.” 

Jamie followed his gesture to the window and looked outside, and he groaned when he noticed the snow falling more heavily as the coach trundled along at a snail’s pace. 

A few beats of silence passed, then Dani chewed at his lower lip for a second and held up one of the earbuds. “Watch with me?” He offered, and then hesitated again. “The comments are all Spanish, but…” 

Jamie considered that - not the language, he could follow football with or without English commentary. There was no chance this would help with his goal of sorting himself out, sitting close enough to catch the scent of Dani’s aftershave for however long was left in the game. Even so, it wasn’t strange, people shared headphones on the bus all the time to watch a film or play a video game, and they probably _would_ be stuck in this traffic for a while.

“Right, why not,” he said, finally, and took the offered earbud. “Maybe I’ll learn how to figure out all the shit you say to me, yeah?”

Dani muffled his laughter at that with one hand and then put the other earbud back in his own ear. “Maybe first you learn to say my last name, _Jamie_?” He gave the name an exaggerated pronunciation with a strange H sound at the start, part of an argument they’d had before, and Jamie rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, _Dani."_ The genuinely shocked look he got in return when he used Dani's first name made him feel rather satisfied with himself, even if this did turn out to be a terrible idea for his sanity. "Play the video, then."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richmond's first few games of the FA Cup, Dani's birthday, and Jamie has some more bad luck with his health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is just a normal old sickfic plot and it is 100% NOT about you-know-what in real freaking life. x_x

*

 **Football League Fans** @EFLFanZone • 09 Jan

⚽️ FT: Crawley Town 0-6 Richmond

Richmond run roughshod over this League Two side in the #FACup 3rd Round!

  
  
*

The hectic schedule from the Christmas season barreled right into the start of the cup that Dani had been looking forward to. The unpredictability of knockout tournaments was his favorite part about them, but still, it was always nice to get the first fixture out of the way decisively, no matter who the opponent. 

As they boarded the bus to return, he had hoped Jamie might come over to sit with him for the trip again, like after the Cardiff game. After they’d finished with Ale’s match, they ended up giggling like kids over video compilations with titles like “The 100 Stupidest Dives In Football” and “Funniest Referee Mistakes In History” all the way until the bus arrived back in London. The comfortable ease of it had been yet another something new in their friendship.

But, aside from their ability to link up on the pitch and score goals, which was an undeniable kind of magic that he didn’t even want to try to explain for fear of somehow breaking the spell, it seemed as though every little connection they managed to create was like a lightning strike that never repeated in the same place. 

*

 **Football League Fans** @EFLFanZone • 23 Jan

⚽️ FT: Richmond 2-1 Derby County

In this #FACup 4th Round fixture, Derby County strike first, but Richmond prevail!

*

It was Dani’s birthday just two days after the fourth round match, and he made sure not to get to the training center too early, since Isaac had accidentally included him in the group chat planning his surprise party. Despite that, he thought he did a pretty good job at pretending to be surprised anyway, and he didn’t even mention that the decorations they’d hung up were actually an Italian flag and a leftover Christmas banner in Spanish. 

“We tried to tell them,” Thierry explained later, with Sam nodding along emphatically, but at least it had been pretty funny to watch Coach and Coach Beard figure out the flag. 

One of the gifts in front of his locker was a ukulele wrapped up in a Liverpool scarf, and immediately, he knew that had to be from Jamie because no one else was still giving him grief about that old photograph from the YouTube video. 

The question of how Jamie had known he could play the instrument at all stuck with him, and he combed over everything he could remember, wondering when he’d ever even mentioned it. Some of the guys had heard him play guitar, but that had been while Jamie was with City, and it was all he could think of that was even close.

He thought about asking, but he didn’t, mostly because Jamie really did seem very pleased with himself about it and that made him happier than knowing the answer would. 

It was several more days before he remembered there were videos on his Instagram from years ago, when he was still back home in Mexico, playing versions of _Tigres_ supporters songs on an old ukulele.

*

 **Football League Fans** @EFLFanZone • 10 Feb

⚽️ FT: Richmond 3-2 Bristol City

This exciting midweek matchup in the #FACup 5th Round sends Richmond through to the quarterfinal!

*

Everyone was in good spirits after pulling off the win, but they all seemed as tired as Dani felt by the end of it, and Jamie sagged against him shoulder to shoulder as they made their way off the pitch. 

But something about Jamie’s gait made concern flare in his chest, and he stopped both of them just inside the tunnel to regard Jamie’s face carefully. His skin was stark white underneath the flush of exertion from the match, and his lips were visibly dry despite the fact that he’d just had a water bottle in his hands minutes ago. 

“I think you need medical.”

“I’m fine.” Jamie’s voice was harsh and raspy and he gazed back at Dani with vaguely unfocused eyes. “Just a headache.” 

“No, you look sick.” Dani reached out to steady him with one hand on his shoulder as he swayed on his feet. 

Jamie swallowed reflexively, opened his mouth like he was going to reply, then closed it again and leaned heavily against the wall. For a second, Dani was afraid he was going to pass out, but he doubled over and vomited, retching watery bile down his front and onto the ground. 

There was no immediate verdict from the medical team, other than Dani being promptly ordered out of the room. He lingered outside the door, peering through the window while they maneuvered Jamie onto the treatment table and inserted a needle and tube into the crook of his arm. 

_Was he that bad off at the half? How much did he have to drink then?_ Dani couldn’t remember, everyone had been worried about the score. He could kick himself for that now.

Eventually, one of the medics noticed him there and made a gesture of waving him off, and he went to take a very long shower, eat something, and then do his recovery. Their next regular match was on the weekend, just a few days off, and regardless of how he felt, there just wasn’t time to be dealing with any preventable injuries. 

Somehow, he managed to put on a smile through answering to what felt like the entire team, one by one, that he didn’t actually know how Jamie was, then spent a couple of minutes longer than usual ice-bathing his legs and embracing the way the cold shocked his nerves into numbness. 

The locker room was mostly empty, since just about everyone else had already been pulled in for the post-match interviews or just left to get some rest, and he took his time getting dressed, still considering whether or not he wanted to check back in on Jamie before he left.

“Oh, Dani, there you are!” Keeley’s announcement from the doorway got his attention.

“Did I miss press?” Dani asked, hoping his absence hadn’t been a problem for her. He had just assumed Coach had made excuses for him when he went straight to the showers. 

“No, no, it’s about Jamie, actually. They think he’s got a touch of flu and the doctor wants someone to drive him home, but he’s being a brat about it, told Ted and Roy and me all to fuck off.” 

Dani gave a genuine smile then as some of the worry evaporated immediately. If Jamie was well enough to be arguing instead of being sent to the hospital, it couldn’t be too bad after all. 

“I will try, but I can promise nothing,” he said.

“I don’t know, we all know how he is, but you’ve gotten pretty fluent in speaking Jamie these last few months,” Keeley said, giggling, and he wasn’t even sure if he knew what that meant, but before he could decide whether to ask, she handed him a Tesco bag. “Here, we got some things together, I’m sure he’s got nothing in the house. His phone and keys are in there as well.”

Skeptical, Dani took the bag and went back to the treatment room. When he glanced through the window this time, the IV fluid bags were empty and disconnected and Jamie was alone in the room, asleep on the table. They’d changed his clothes to a clean training shirt and shorts, but it seemed as though they grabbed a size too big from the kit room. He looked younger in all of the vulnerability, and it made Dani’s heart ache.

Falling for his teammates was always more trouble than any questionable choices made under the influence of alcohol had ever been, and he’d been resisting the realization that he’d ended up at that destination again for a while now. 

Dani opened the door as quietly as he could manage, but the hinge creaked loudly and Jamie’s eyes blinked open.

“Lasso send you?” He still sounded scratchy and rough, but at least he seemed more aware of his surroundings than he had in the tunnel.

“No, it was Keeley.” 

Jamie gave an annoyed huff. “I can get home on my own.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Dani replied simply. “You can also let someone help you. I will not tell.”

“Christ, you really did talk to Keeley.”

*

It was less strange than Dani expected, being back in Jamie’s house just about a year since the last time, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered if the place had sat empty while Jamie had been back in Manchester. 

After making sure Jamie got to his room all right to change into some of his own clothes, Dani took the supplies from Keeley into the kitchen and did his best at heating up canned soup and making toast and tea. The bag also contained several bottles of Lucozade and what appeared to be a few kinds of medicine, and he just took the whole thing upstairs with him rather than try and sort it out.

The sound of a damp, congested cough came through the crack in the door as he shoved it open with his foot, hands full, and he hoped there was something in the shopping bag that was meant for that. Jamie was curled up on his side underneath the white top sheet, but he pushed himself up into a sitting position when Dani came in.

“How is your stomach?” Dani set the teacup and bowl of soup down on the nightstand, toast slices precariously balanced on top. 

“Better.” Jamie reached out for the cup and took a drink. “Sorry for getting sick on you earlier,” he mumbled around a mouthful of the toast while he appeared intent on studying the rest of the slice. “Doc said it was the fever.”

“No apology, _amigo_ , I've seen worse,” Dani said with a shrug. Having siblings, not to mention a lot of friends who couldn’t hold their liquor, meant he’d seen plenty of vomit. Jamie’s well-being had definitely been his bigger concern, but he certainly wasn’t going to say that, at least not in those words. “But, you should have asked Coach to sub you out.”

“I felt all right this morning, and at the break I was just hot and tired.” Jamie shook his head and heaved a long sigh. “It hit me as soon as we stopped in the tunnel and it felt like the walls kept fucking moving.”

Dani looked around for something he could sit on, and then pulled a footstool over and sat down so he could start taking the drinks and medications out of the shopping bag. There was, in fact, cough syrup, which he measured out a dose of. Once Jamie had swallowed it with a grimace but without any complaint, he handed over two of the paracetamol tablets as well. 

“There is VapoRub here also,” he said with a chuckle, “which, for _Mamá_ , will fix a cough, a sore back, a cut on your elbow, the squeaking door...”

“What?” Jamie gave him a confused look, eyebrows raised. 

“For Mexican mothers, if you cannot be cured with VapoRub and a shot of tequila, it is time to call the priest.” 

“I’ll pass on the tequila tonight,” Jamie said dryly, in between sips from the bowl of soup.

“Yes, right now I think sports drink is better,” Dani agreed, laughing, and he set the container of VapoRub on the bed next to the pillows while the concept of boundaries shouted at him from the depths of his mind again. 

After a few minutes, he stood up and moved to put the footstool back where he’d found it. “Ah, I will let you rest. Remember to have more medicine later, yes?” 

“You’re going?” A look of disappointment flashed briefly across Jamie’s face. “Thought you’d keep me company. Watch telly or whatever.” 

The last part was added like an excuse, and Dani took a deep breath to force his heart back down into his chest from where it had leapt into his throat. “Your illness doesn't excuse me from training tomorrow.” The day after a game was light, but it was true that he was supposed to be there, and be well rested. 

“Sleep on the couch, skip the rubbish meetings and go late.” Jamie yawned and settled back against the headboard. “We can watch the match back in the morning if you need to hear about how shit your defense is.”

Dani rolled his eyes at the comment. Jamie was still as pale as the sheets, but at least he was himself. “You see, now I know you will be fine.” But he considered the argument anyway. 

He had never in his life intentionally gone to training late, never skipped a club meeting just because he didn’t feel like going, regardless of what other bad decisions he may have been making at the time. So, even though his car _was_ still at the stadium, and it _had_ been a long day, it still surprised him a little when he heard himself say, “All right.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has a lot of Feelings. He's not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this whole sickfic subplot mostly written, and then my personal insistence on switching POVs only at chapter breaks combined with really wanting this bit from Jamie's POV means this chapter is a shorter one. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Next one picks back up where it leaves off.
> 
> Also, like I said last chapter, it's just a sickfic like we used to write in the Before Times, I am in no way referencing you-know-what in real life.

Jamie scrolled through videos on the television and hoped for the pills to do something about the stabbing behind his eyes. A dull, pulsating ache had settled into his back, hips, and legs, but some of that was definitely from the match. His chest was heavy from the cough, but at least his stomach was settled, and he didn’t feel like he was running at forty degrees anymore.

It still felt pitiful, asking Dani to spend the night like he needed taking care of, but he’d already spent so much more of his free time alone than usual since the season had started last summer, miserable over his career and his injury and wondering who the fuck he actually was anymore. The prospect of being by himself in an empty house while he felt this poorly was just too much on top of it all. 

If he was being honest, he’d never really liked being alone in his house anyway, even without all the extra shit going on. One of the main reasons he hadn’t gone more than a week without a girlfriend for so long, at least not until his entire life had gone to hell last year, was that nights in an empty house reminded him too much of being home alone as a kid, laying in bed listening to the knocking and whistling of the old radiator while his mum was working.

There hadn’t been very many specific people whose company he’d wanted, though. Most of the ones who’d found their ways into his life had just been convenient. There were a lot of things he could say about whatever it was between himself and Dani, but ‘convenient’ wasn’t one. 

After a brief exchange about the fact that the ottoman Jamie usually just threw dirty laundry on wasn’t actually a good seat, Dani had settled on top of the covers on the opposite side of the bed, but he’d refused Jamie’s offers of clothes to change into and just leaned back against the headboard in his jeans and t-shirt. 

When Jamie thought about it, he didn’t think he’d ever laid in bed with anyone without sex in the equation before, but it wasn’t like he was hoping that they were going to _do_ anything - even if under normal circumstances he had gotten more comfortable with the idea, with the way he felt at the moment, he was pretty sure his dick couldn’t get hard right now even if he wanted it to.

No, all he actually wanted right now was to feel like somebody actually gave a damn about him, and it seemed like Dani did, even though he still wasn’t really sure why. 

“So what are we going to watch?” 

The calm, curious question drew Jamie’s attention back to the menus still scrolling by on the screen. What he’d said about watching television had really just been an excuse, and he couldn’t think of anything he was in any kind of mood to put on. 

“Doesn’t matter, you choose something.” He tossed the remote in Dani’s direction and tipped his head back against the pillows. 

“It was your idea,” Dani protested mildly, but the menu selection sounds from the television started up again anyway. 

They ended up on some stupid old sci-fi film, making fun of how bad the CGI used to be. It was mindless enough to provide a distraction while he waited for the meds to kick in, even if his eyes did drift shut at a slow part in the middle, and the next time he cracked them open a sliver, the credits were rolling. Then the TV clicked off, darkening the room, and the mattress shifted underneath him when Dani moved to get up.

“Stay,” Jamie croaked weakly, hating how feeble it sounded even before he’d finished saying it. “Look, I know it’s fucking pathetic, but -”

“Hey,” Dani interrupted, gently chiding, “it is not pathetic to feel lonely or sad.” 

Something clenched painfully in Jamie’s chest that didn’t have anything to do with the illness, a sense of feeling exposed that made him turn onto his side to face away, even in just the low light left from the windows. 

There was some more shifting and shuffling behind him, and then a hand settled tentatively on his shoulder over the sheets. The presence was comforting regardless, but the hesitation put him back onto recalling the last few months, the banter in training, the goal celebrations, the wistful notes in Dani’s voice on that ridiculous December night when he somehow made hope of winning a cup competition sound like another kind of invitation entirely. 

“Do you only like me because I’m good at football?” 

The words left Jamie’s lips without the full consent of his brain, and he blamed the cough syrup and the dark for the way his thoughts felt like they were half underwater. He sounded like a lovesick girl and he hated it, but he didn’t know how to _do_ this, and how the hell did anybody else, anyway?

He felt Dani pull back slightly at the question and swallowed hard, regretting it already, looking for something else to say to deflect. It felt like forever in the heartbeats before Dani answered, quiet and wavering a little at first.

“I like you because you understand.” He paused, mumbled something in Spanish in a tone that seemed momentarily frustrated, and tripped over his words for a second when he started again. “You are beautiful on the pitch, Jamie, but it is not your right foot. You understand the… the passion of it, the feeling to not know yourself without it. This would be true even if we scored only two goals a season in the National League.”

Whatever answer Jamie might have expected, that wasn’t even close, and the silence that dropped over the room in the wake of it only made him feel like he couldn’t handle the process of breathing, never mind speaking, without shattering into a million pieces. 

“Do you still want me to stay?” Dani asked after several moments, barely louder than a whisper, and it was oddly reassuring how unnerved he sounded.

“Yeah,” Jamie whispered back, once he’d found his voice again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeley continues subtly meddling.

Laying in the dark in the wake of his cumbersome confession, listening to Jamie’s breathing slowly deepen as he drifted off to sleep, Dani was uncertain what to expect in the morning. 

He woke up shivering from the chill in the air, still laying on top of the blankets. He must have slung his arm over Jamie’s waist while they’d slept, seeking the warmth of his body heat, and he moved to pull away, but Jamie’s fingers were intertwined with his. His heart skipped a beat in his chest. 

“Morning,” Jamie mumbled, rough with sleep. “Time is it?”

It had to be late, because of how bright the sun was, and it occurred to Dani that he hadn’t actually told anyone not to expect him at the training center today. He squeezed Jamie’s hand once and then extricated himself from the grasp to fumble around for his phone in the bed covers. He never turned the ringer back on yesterday, and there were a few messages asking where he was.

“After ten,” he answered. “What should I make for breakfast?” Neither of them had eaten as much as they usually would have after a match, and his stomach felt like it was going to turn itself inside out.

“Eggs, veg maybe, don’t know.” Jamie let out a thick cough as he sat up against the headboard, and gulped from one of the bottles of sports drink on the nightstand before he started opening up the medicine. “Shit, I feel disgusting. How could you sleep next to me like this?”

“They cleaned you up in medical.” 

Jamie cringed and slowly pushed himself up from the bed. “I need a shower.”

Dani left him alone to manage that, and went to look through his gym bag. It was a good thing that kept a comb and a toothbrush in there, so at least he could clean himself up well enough in the downstairs bathroom. His mind wandered while he went through the motions. It was still hard to believe the words that had come out of his mouth last night, but Jamie had clearly needed to hear them, and he hoped they’d come across the way he meant them. 

When he did get out to the kitchen, it turned out that there actually were a handful of things that were on the meal plans handed out to them every week. Dani wasn’t a chef, but he’d have been murdered a long time ago by club nutritionists, not to mention his mother, if he hadn’t been able to figure out what to do with eggs.

He was just about to turn the stovetop on when the doorbell sounded. The shower was still running upstairs and answering the door at someone else’s house in the middle of a weekday morning didn’t scream discretion, so he ignored it, but it went off a second time, accompanied by the faint noise of Jamie’s phone ringing upstairs.

His own phone rang in his pocket right after that, and as soon as he saw the name _Keeley Jones_ across the screen, he just clicked the decline button and went to answer the door. Sure enough, he could see her through the windows, holding a tray of coffee cups and a takeaway bag.

“Everyone was wondering where you were this morning,” she said, eyes sparkling mischievously when he opened the door and let her in. 

“I just sent Coach a message. My car is still there.” 

“I could give you a lift later,” Keeley offered over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen with the things she was carrying. “I’ve got a meeting with a sponsor downtown in an hour.”

“Thank you.” Dani watched her unpack takeaway containers from the bag. “I was going to cook something on our nutrition plan.”

“I know what’s on a nutrition plan, I’ve been sleeping with footballers since I was a teenager.” Keeley giggled and handed him one of the coffee cups. 

“I wonder what else we have in common,” Dani remarked, and it was maybe too much to say as a joke, but he knew her pretty well, and she clearly cared about Jamie, so that made them allies as far as he was concerned. 

She gaped at him for a moment and then howled until she turned red, gasping for air and clutching at her side. He laughed along with her, partly because her reaction was funny and partly because he was really never able to say things like that, and it actually felt pretty good. 

“Oh my god,” she sputtered after a minute, “I have so many questions and like, no time.” 

“Was that Keeley at the door?” Jamie called from the stairs, and then he padded barefoot into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and training shorts. He still looked exhausted, but there was more color to his face, and his voice didn’t sound as bad as it had when he’d woken up.

“It was.” Keeley rolled her eyes and went to give him a quick hug. “But I’ve got to run, just wanted to make sure you didn’t starve.”

“Right, that’s the only reason you came by,” Jamie said sarcastically, but he still came over to the counter to get one of the cups of coffee even while he was shooting a skeptical look in her direction. 

“I didn’t say it was the only reason,” Keeley replied. “Anyway, I’m off. Dani, I’ll text you, yeah?”

Dani just waved and watched her leave. Keeley was a whirlwind.

“What was that about?” Jamie asked as he sat on one of the stools to start eating out of one of the takeaway containers. 

“She offered to drive me later,” Dani explained, and did the same thing himself. 

Each container had a serving of a baked egg dish full of red peppers and spinach, along with a cup of oatmeal with berries in it. Dani did have to admit that the eggs were better than what he would have made, and it wasn’t anything they’d have to lie to the nutritionists about if they were questioned either. 

“Want to go watch the match back before that, then?” Jamie asked around a mouthful of food. 

“Maybe, but are you going to insult me the whole time?” 

“No, mate, only if you deserve it.” 

*

They watched the replay of the match sitting side by side on the couch, knees touching. There didn’t seem to be that much to nitpick in either of their performances, and Jamie seemed to agree. 

“Bastards were just having a good day,” he declared when the replay went to the break. “We still won.”

“So we just hope who we draw for the quarterfinal will have a worse one?” Dani asked jokingly. “You have a great future as a manager.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Jamie clicked the fast forward through some of the commentary to the start of the second half. 

Dani wondered when he’d gotten used to hearing the words ‘fuck off’ in an affectionate tone, but it had definitely been sometime before today, and that realization lightened his heart. 

Once they were done with reliving their previous day’s slog through Bristol City’s defense and looking for something else to watch, Jamie suggested finding some of his old matches from back home. 

Dani thought about that for a minute. He couldn’t really think of too many specific ones he’d particularly want to share off the top of his head, and he really knew how to watch current fixtures from back home, but not anything from a while ago. 

“ _Tigres_ has YouTube, maybe?” 

They managed to find the right channel, but as he read over the names of the videos, it seemed as though the only full matches were from the current season. The further back they went, it was mostly press conferences and advertising, and the only things with him in them were some highlight reels. 

“What made you want to play over here anyway?” Jamie asked while one of the videos was going. 

Dani hummed thoughtfully. “Last year you told me things are different here, yes?”

Jamie’s brow furrowed in thought for a moment and he scoffed. “I was just being a prick.”

“I knew that, but it was true,” Dani said, amused by Jamie’s offended frown when he stated his agreement. “I wanted to play here even when I was young. My brothers had posters for our national team, I had one for yours.”

“And Liverpool?” Jamie joked.

“Here, if you want to make fun of me…” Dani grabbed his phone from the cushions next to him and swiped back through his photos. Years ago, when his mother had moved out of the house he grew up in, she’d sent pictures, including the bedroom he’d shared with his brothers as a kid. He was sure Jamie would get a kick out of it. 

Of the three lofted beds that took up each wall of the room, picking his out was easy. The area behind the desk underneath it was a poster of one of England’s World Cup teams, and above the bed was an older one of Liverpool winning the Champions League. He’d also cut out every magazine article he’d ever found about Steven Gerrard and pasted those in all the other free spaces, including on the ceiling. That part was absolutely cringe-worthy, and his only excuse was that he’d been about twelve years old when he started doing it.

Just as Dani expected, Jamie started cackling as soon as he handed him the phone. Seeing him happy was nice, and Dani had been used to his mostly good-natured teasing for even longer than the affectionate ‘fuck offs’ anyway. 

“Looks like you were just in love with Gerrard,” Jamie snorted once his initial reaction had subsided, even though he was still zooming in on various aspects of the picture and snickering, and Dani took the phone back from him.

“Yes, I was thirteen when I got jealous of how he put his hands on the others when they scored a goal.” He chuckled at how ridiculous his recollection of that felt now.

Jamie turned sideways to look at him, surprised. “You’re joking,” he said incredulously.

“You never had a crush on your idols?” 

“Before last year, I never -” Jamie stopped abruptly and fiddled with the remote control in his lap, then clicked the television off. “I never thought about it.”

Dani exhaled sharply as the implication of that sank in. “I’m sorry.” 

Jamie shrugged and slouched deeper into the couch cushions, shuffling around to rest his head on Dani’s shoulder, and it was more than a little reassuring when he twined their fingers together again after. 

They sat quietly like that for a little while until Dani thought Jamie may have fallen asleep, but that was fine, at least until his phone chimed. When he picked it up and looked, it was Keeley asking whether he still needed to go to the stadium, and Jamie opened his eyes to read the screen at the same time he did.

“She wants to get you to gossip about us.”

Dani didn’t comment on the way Jamie said the word ‘us’ and just filed it away to consider later, then sent Keeley back a gif of a penguin nodding ‘yes,’ since he really did at least need to get his car. 

“Yesterday she said I am ‘fluent in speaking Jamie’ now,” he commented, and set the phone back down on his lap.

“What does that even mean?” Jamie scowled. “I wish I never told her anything,”

“Did you?” Dani asked, curious, since it really would explain a lot. “I don’t mind.”

“Nothing about you, but I talked to her last summer when I was still sort of freaking out about… everything.”

“Oh, okay. I was joking around with her this morning because I thought she might already know,” Dani remarked, momentarily glad he was at least right that Keeley was trustworthy.

“What?” Jamie shifted around and tilted his head to look up questioningly.

Immediately, Dani realized this was actually the reason he probably shouldn’t have made his silly comment to Keeley earlier. He cleared his throat awkwardly before recounting the conversation, and Jamie gave an exasperated groan.

“Now she’ll be even worse,” he grumbled, but at least it didn’t seem like he was really upset. After a moment, he added, “Have you really? I mean, are there actually other lads playing who are...?”

Jamie sounded bewildered by the idea, and it was almost funny, except Dani could definitely remember wondering the same thing when he was younger, feeling like there was nobody else who could possibly feel the same way he did. 

He searched for an appropriate answer, something that would be comforting without oversharing, since he seemed to keep saying dumb things today. “Yes, I think there are many people who are keeping their personal life private, especially in football.”

Jamie nodded against Dani’s shoulder again, more slowly that time, seeming to consider that for a while. 

“You know, if you text those stupid animal pictures all the time, you can’t have my number," Jamie said, finally, throwing Dani for a loop with the sudden change in topic until he recalled the message he'd just sent.

“Keeley gave me your telephone number in December."

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“She might be too smart for both of us,” he said solemnly, and Jamie scoffed but didn’t say anything. Just then, his phone went off again, and this time the reply read _Be there in 5 minutes!_

Jamie looked it over along with him again and sighed. “Suppose I’ll take a nap while you show up at training in the middle of the afternoon,” he said, and shifted positions to lean in the other direction. 

“Remember to keep hydrated,” Dani said, and reluctantly got up off the couch to go and get his gym bag from the bathroom. “That’s why you feel better.”

“Puts me off you when you act like my mum,” Jamie called after him, and even through the sarcasm, the sentiment made warmth bloom in his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie takes Keeley's advice on Valentine's Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ultimately, I decided linking to gifs at the beginning of this chapter was the least obnoxious way to do the thing I wanted to do. If you don't like clicking through links, nbd, you'll still get the idea. :D
> 
> Also, my updates on this have slowed down because I started a new online class and I'm getting ready to start a new job. I'm still working on it, but now that I'm down to a barebones outline that's really just a bullet point list of things that still need to happen without much detail pre-imagined, I doubt I'll be updating multiple times a week anymore. x_x 
> 
> Please feel free to scream with me on Tumblr or Discord though!

It was late that same evening when Jamie got a message notification on his phone, and when he picked it up, it was from a number he didn’t recognize. When he opened it up, it was just [an animated picture of a happy dog being tucked into bed underneath some blankets](https://imgur.com/CA6zaQo). 

He stared at it for a split second, confused, before remembering what he’d said earlier in the afternoon. The idea that Dani was at home thinking about that, and by extension about _him_ , made him smile fondly, but it was far too soppy of a thought when he was exhausted of _feelings_ after the last twenty-four hours. 

**_I’m changing my number_** , he typed, and added the number to his contacts. 

The next message was [another picture, this time of a kitten with large, sad-looking eyes](https://imgur.com/98HjVUP), and Jamie snorted when he imagined Dani trying to pull that expression himself. 

**_Go have a wank or something_** , he wrote back, a grin on his face, curious to see what reaction that would get. 

He shook with laughter when the reply was [an image of a surprised woman entering a room, captioned with the phrase ](https://imgur.com/qKmDkwv) [ _(gasps in Spanish)_ ](https://imgur.com/qKmDkwv). 

*

> **Football League Fans** @EFLFanZone • 13 Feb
> 
> ⚽️ FT: Bournemouth 1-1 Richmond
> 
> Top ranked Richmond split points with the hosts!

*

Jamie watched Saturday’s match from home, since the doctors had refused to clear him before the team left for travel on Friday and told him to rest for the weekend. They weren’t necessarily wrong, but that wasn’t going to stop him from being annoyed about it. 

**_You better get at least 1 without me_** , he texted Dani while everyone was already doing the final round of warm-ups before kickoff on television. 

He ended up sending many more throughout the course of the match - **_Ref learned offsides from Lasso_** and **_Who were you even passing to_** and **_6 is a horse faced twat_** among others - but the initial demand ended up being prophetic. 

The only highlight of the entire thing was the goal Dani scored in the 54th minute from well outside of the penalty box. The shot sank into the upper left corner of the goal like the distance was nothing, and Jamie sent another message, still entirely free of context. 

**_That was fucking brilliant_ **

The match ended in a draw regardless, and the television coverage went into all the day’s fixtures across the leagues. He mostly tuned it out, leaving it as background noise while he looked at his phone instead, where the replay of the goal was trending locally on Twitter. 

Jamie wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that it didn’t really bother him anymore when his gaze drifted away from the gameplay to the lines of Dani’s body, because it was sure to get him in trouble eventually at training, but just a video on his phone was safe enough. What was getting to him now was the way it felt like his heart and his stomach tried their best to knot themselves around each other when he thought for too long about the things Dani had said so earnestly in the dark a few nights ago.

 _Feelings are absolute shit_ , he thought. 

*

Jamie wasn’t much of a ‘special occasions’ kind of guy in general. The idea he’d had for Dani’s birthday gift had been a total accident, inspired by the sleepless night he’d spent going through all eight years of old posts on Dani’s Instagram after they’d gotten off the snowy bus ride home from Cardiff. Nothing he recalled from any of it was any help with figuring out what kind of gesture he could make for Valentine’s Day after a full evening of television adverts had put the idea into his head.

He knew what girls expected for holidays, birthdays, whatever. It was easy, especially when he didn’t really care anyway with most of them beyond how he looked in the photos. A flashy gift and a reservation at some fancy restaurant was simple enough, and these days, his publicist even did most of the work if he asked. 

Something like that wouldn’t be an option in this situation even if he thought it would send the right message, which he was pretty certain it wouldn’t - not that he was entirely sure what the message he wanted to send was to begin with. What even was there to convey in between _“thanks for looking after me”_ and _“I think I might want to be your boyfriend”_? 

Finally, despite not wanting to give her the satisfaction, he ended up texting Keeley for help with what to do at two-thirty in the morning. Sometime after that, he must have fallen asleep, because it was several hours later when the ringtone chime went off to signal her response.

_In my experience, men like food and/or sex for any occasion._

Jamie wiped the sleep out of his eyes and took a minute to register that the sun was up, the television was still on, and he hadn't actually gone to bed, just passed out downstairs. He scowled at the words on the screen and tapped out a reply. **_I was trying to be serious. What the fuck am I supposed to do?_**

_You don’t have to do anything special! Just be honest with him._

_You’ll figure it out, babe. I believe in you!_ 😘

Jamie groaned out loud and went to go make coffee and have a shower. Maybe that would provide him with some kind of insight, but he wasn't betting on it.

*

The address Keeley had given him was easy enough to find, though Jamie worried at first that maybe the late afternoon was too early to come by, since he didn’t really know what time the team bus had left Bournemouth that morning, but usually they got on the road early and it certainly wasn't one of the furthest destinations. Thankfully though, he spotted Dani’s car parked in the space outside one of the houses. 

He spent a few minutes checking his hair in the rearview mirror and trying to settle his traitorous nerves a bit before he finally grabbed the six-pack of beer and the Nandos bag from the passenger seat and went to ring the doorbell. He glanced up and down the peaceful street while he waited, and it was quiet enough that he could just barely hear the faint sound of music coming from inside the house. 

The door swung open after a minute, and it was gratifying that Dani looked equal parts pleased and shocked to see him while leading him into the sitting room.

Jamie unpacked the food onto the short table in front of the couch while Dani went to fetch a bottle opener from the kitchen. The only other furniture was an armchair with a large blanket thrown over it and a laptop left sitting on top, and the wooden stand that held a powered-off television and two speakers playing a pop station. He looked around the sparsely decorated room like it might give him a clue about what he wanted to say, but the low-volume music didn’t offer him any advice.

“You sent eighty texts yesterday and today you surprise me,” Dani teased after he returned, “But I’m glad you feel better. Is this my thank you for being your nurse?”

“And for that goal yesterday. Wish I’d been there.” Jamie took a drink from one of the bottles and hoped it would help with the annoying lump that was already forming in his throat.

“I looked for you, for a second, before I remembered.” 

“You can set me up a hat trick next weekend,” Jamie said with a smirk, and they both laughed as they started eating, though it wasn’t really that far-fetched an idea.

“Maybe next month at Villa,” Dani replied nonchalantly.

“Right, make it look good when we put them out of the cup, yeah? Give the journos a better story.” 

Not that the press really needed a better story than their potentially record-setting scoring in their regular season, especially if they actually did win the cup quarterfinal, but still. They sat close, their legs touching just like at his place, and made small talk about the match and about the upcoming fixtures as they ate through the variety of seasoned chicken wings. 

Dani was wearing a plain t-shirt and faded blue joggers with a yellow stripe that Jamie knew were the colors of his old club, and his smile was incandescent as he talked animatedly about the lads taking over the arcade on the pier and messing about on the empty beach after the match, and then the antics from the bus ride home. Jamie looked at the lines at the corners of his eyes and wondered how they managed to make him look older and younger at the same time each time he laughed.

“Do I have something on my face?” 

The teasing question told Jamie he had probably been looking for some time too long, and he turned his attention to finishing off his drink. “No. Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Can I ask about what?” Dani asked more tentatively, tilting his head a little and giving Jamie a curious look.

Jamie swallowed hard and considered opening another bottle, but he just fiddled with one of the takeaway napkins instead while the fluttering in his chest made him feel stupid and childish again. He thought about Keeley’s advice to be honest, sighed, and leaned forward to put his elbows on his knees. _Now or never, right?_

“That I think I fancy you and if you were a bird I’d just kiss you but I don’t know what the fuck the rules are with _this_ ,” he said, all in one breath, with a vague handwave at the end while he studied the laces of his trainers intently rather than look up. There was an agonizing moment where the music became white noise and all he could hear was the thumping of his own heartbeat.

“I have never heard of any rules either,” Dani replied light-heartedly, “but you can kiss me if you want to.” 

He was ridiculously matter-of-fact about it, like it was just friendly chat about who might be on the bench next weekend, and Jamie turned to look in his direction so fast it must have been comical, because the corners of Dani’s mouth quirked just slightly upwards like he was trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Jamie muttered self-consciously as his gaze shifted inadvertently from Dani’s face, to a point in the middle of his chest, then back up to his lips. 

“It’s not,” Dani agreed, still smiling lightly, but he hesitated for a second before placing his hand gently over Jamie’s. “I’m sorry. I worry where the lines are, too. Especially after you said that you were freaked out last year...”

“I got over that.” Jamie thought about whether that was entirely true after he said it, and decided it was true enough - he’d only really worried then about what the physical stuff had meant, the feelings part was much more recent. “Mostly,” he added, for the sake of honesty, just in case. 

“I’m glad,” Dani replied, but just kept looking at him in that same curious manner.

The way their hands intertwined made that feeling in Jamie’s chest come back, and it occurred to him that this whole conversation would only make him feel even more stupid in the end if he didn’t actually just fucking go on and _do it_ now that he’d brought it up. 

So he did, turning his upper body just enough to lean over and press their lips together, and the angle was awkward like he was a kid kissing his school girlfriend for the first time all over again, except he didn’t really care about any of that now. His thoughts were occupied with other things, like how Dani’s hair felt different than he’d imagined and a gradual new understanding of why his girlfriends always complained if he skipped shaving for a day or two.

In the back of his mind, Jamie added _the way he kisses_ to the mental list of things he knew, now that it was in clear detail rather than a handful of memories clouded by the worst hangover of his life. 

It was strangely anticlimactic when it ended because he had expected some moment of clarity where he’d understand now what he was feeling and thinking and doing, and that hadn’t happened. But he wanted to do it again regardless, and Dani seemed happy to let him, sighing softly against his mouth as they shifted around into a somewhat less cumbersome position.

“Should have done this at mine instead,” Jamie grumbled after a few minutes when they pulled apart again, enough that he could untwist his arm from where it had gotten wedged between Dani’s back and the hard crease between the couch cushions.

“You decided to come here on your own,” Dani pointed out, teasing again, and pressed another quick kiss to the corner of Jamie’s mouth that surprised him a little. “But, I guess Keeley helped with that?”

Jamie ducked his head and nodded. Of course that was obvious. “She told me to be honest,” he admitted. 

“You should thank her.” 

“Yeah, well, when I first asked her what I should do, she told me lads like food and sex for Valentine’s, so.” 

After he said it, Jamie realized it came off a lot less like a joke while the two of them were pressed together hip to shoulder, breathing the same air from inches away, than it had in a text. 

At least he knew by now that Dani was shockingly difficult to wind up with words anyway.

Sure enough, Dani just gave a stifled snort of laughter and shook his head. “I would like to say I don’t, what, fool around on a first date? And you would already know I'm lying,” he said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “But, Sam and Thierry are coming over around six to play FIFA."

“You’re serious?” Jamie asked, sitting up and glancing at his watch. 

“Yes, we hang out most Sunday nights. I’m sorry, I meant to say before.” Dani sat up too and wrapped him in a brief hug before getting up from the couch entirely to clear the takeaway trash. “You should stay and play it with us. Then you would understand your FIFA rating if anyone ever puts you in a reaction video again," he joked.

“That stuff’s fucking stupid.” Jamie shrugged. The reason he didn’t understand the video games about football was that he didn’t give a shit about them, and that single fan-engagement video a few years ago was the last time City had ever pulled him for that kind of thing. “Besides, what’s an excuse that I’m even here?” He shouted after Dani, who had gone to the kitchen with the bag of trash.

“We were watching the match,” Dani called back, “and maybe you like stupid things with friends more than going home alone?”

Jamie heaved a sigh and threw himself back against the couch cushions rather than admit out loud that Dani might actually be right about the last part. He didn’t want to go home any more than he wanted to share Dani’s attention for the rest of the evening. 

Ultimately, the doorbell ringing made the decision for him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dani's patient when he needs to be.
> 
> Jamie's really not, ever.

If Dani was honest with himself, and he tried his best to be most of the time, it was actually a little bit of a relief to have had the surprise evening with Jamie interrupted by his own standing plans. Not because he wouldn’t have liked to see where it was going, it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone, but because it had been even longer since he’d been with anyone whose company he enjoyed quite this much. 

Jamie’s apparent inexperience with men didn’t bother him, not really, but messing up their friendship, not to mention whatever else it was, by letting things move too fast wasn’t something he wanted to do at all. And maybe ‘too fast’ was a silly way to think of it, all things considered, but he still found himself a little worried about where the boundaries were, both physically and emotionally.

His own love life had always been all-or-nothing; entirely casual or entirely _not_. He knew himself well enough by now to be aware that casual sex was one thing, but he couldn’t be so free with his heart anymore when doing anything halfway wasn’t something it was capable of. 

Regardless, he put it all out of his mind long enough to go to training. Priorities had to be kept up, no matter what else was going on, and the fact was that he enjoyed it. It helped that their morning schedule for Monday was back to back games of seven-a-side, which was always a fun start to a new week, especially after the monotony of a travel day. 

The rest of the day split them all up among the gym, skill-specific training sessions, and meetings if they were needed for anything. Dani found his name on the schedule board for the last physio appointment before the mid-day break, so he went to sit through the usual checkup.

He was still having the knots massaged out of his legs when a message chimed over the music in his earbuds, and it was no surprise when Jamie’s name appeared on the screen of his phone. 

_Lunch?_

**_still @_ 👩⚕️** ** _physio 15min_** , he wrote back, as normally as he could manage, since he did already promise to at least limit his gif usage; it had really just been too hard to resist poking a little fun when getting a reaction out of Jamie was so easy. 

_Saved u a seat_

_Gaffer says we get Friday morning off_

There was a long gap before the second message, and Dani looked at it while he wondered whether that was just a sharing of information or something Jamie wanted him to read an invitation into. The second option seemed more likely, but making that assumption felt pushy, as much as he did want to make this easier for Jamie if he could.

Finally, he typed out **_extra_ ** **😴💤** **_before_ ** **⚽️** **_matchday_ ** **🙌 🎉** and hit send.

The ‘read’ marker came up right away, followed by a flash of the activity dots, but there wasn’t any response afterwards. By the time the message tone went off again, he was already finished up with his session and about to make his way upstairs to where everyone ate. 

_U could stay at mine_

_If that’s fucking dumb ignore it_

This time the two replies came back-to-back and the almost-defensive phrasing of the second one made Dani stop in the hall and chuckle at his phone. A couple of people walking by gave him odd looks, but that was nothing new, and he flashed them a disarming smile as they passed.

**_not dumb_** , he replied quickly, just to put that thought off the table. Joking aside, he didn’t actually want to make Jamie feel bad. **_its a date, & free _ ** **🍽** **_now_** , he added in another message, and resolved to work his thoughts about that out later.

When he sat down in the makeshift canteen area of the lounge, Jamie shoved a plastic container of white fish, brown rice, and steamed vegetables across the table without looking up from his phone screen. “Meal today’s shit,” he said around a mouthful of the same food from another identical box.

“You always say that,” Dani replied, shaking his head for a moment before he started eating. The food wasn’t any worse than usual, of course, but he’d grown especially fond of being able to anticipate Jamie’s halfhearted griping about minor subjects, as though he just needed something to say. 

“‘Cause it’s always shit.”

“You grew up eating plain English food. I should complain more than you.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jamie said, flicking his eyes up for a brief second to meet Dani’s gaze with a tiny smirk, and the words were the same affectionate tone he was used to again while their knees knocked together briefly under the table. 

Impulsively, he flicked a few grains of his rice at Jamie’s chin. That got him an affronted look and an incredulous scoff in return, but before Jamie could retaliate, there was a shout from the next table, where Isaac was frowning at them.

“Oi, lads, remember what the gaffer said after Colin and all the jelly!” 

Jamie stuck out his tongue, snickering, and Dani just ducked his head sheepishly before taking another bite of his lunch.

*

The next day, he sent Jamie a YouTube video titled [“we put Titanic music alongside the worst 20 seconds of football ever played...”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLxE62lcgsw)

It was a clip of a City game from before either of them were born, edited exactly as the title described, and he thought it was hilarious. Jamie apparently agreed, responding with a long series of laughing-crying emojis. 

When his phone went off again later in the evening, it was Jamie sending him a link to another video. The accompanying comment was just _great hair_ and Dani tapped curiously on the preview image of a logo slide.

He cringed almost immediately at the minutes-long clip of himself playing for Mexico’s U-17 national team with the short bleached haircut he had sworn made him look cool ten years ago. At least the game was good, though, so he couldn’t be too embarrassed about it. It was just one of the many downsides of having so much of your teen years archived as promotional video for the world to see.

**_should_ ** 💇🏽 **_it again, 4_ ** **🥅** **_that cup_ **, he typed back jokingly. That tournament may have been the highlight of his youth career but that wouldn’t actually ever consider wearing his hair like that again.

_Pass, like it better now_

Butterflies flitted about in Dani’s stomach for a second and a smile spread across his face as he gazed at the screen. **_maybe nevermind then_ **😇, he wrote, and on a whim he snapped a quick selfie to add to the message, with his hair framing his face neatly as he tilted his head. He wasn’t a vain guy by any measure but he could take a decent photo.

_Tell Keeley to get u a shampoo advert job_

That really wasn’t any more outrageous than some of the ideas Keeley had actually come up with herself, but still, he hoped Jamie didn’t actually pass it along. **_more fancy_ ** **🚿🧴** **_in ur locker than my_ ** **🏡** , he replied, and that was definitely true whether Jamie wanted to argue about it or not.

  
  


*

Dani was brushing his teeth before he left for training on Wednesday morning when his phone chimed, and he nearly dropped it into the sink when he checked the contents of the message. 

Maybe he’d started it with the selfie last night, he thought, but he’d sent a perfectly innocent headshot against the backdrop of his messy kitchen. Seven-thirty in the morning was too early to fully process the image of Jamie laying back in bed, one arm thrown over his head, gazing lazily at the camera with the sheets gathered low around his hips. 

He spent an embarrassing amount of time looking at the picture regardless, and there wasn’t even a message along with it that he could joke about in a reply. But really, given the sorts of selfies Jamie posted on Instagram all the time, it shouldn’t surprise him that this would be Jamie’s comfort zone.

Still, context mattered, and so did intent - this was for him, and that made it different.

Simultaneously turned on and a little exasperated, he sent back the message **_have to see u @_** **⚽️💪** ** _in 1hr_** **🕣🤭** while he stood there grinning like an idiot despite himself.

_Lucky u yeah?_

Dani couldn’t help laughing at that response. Even if it was too early for this kind of thing with no warning, he really liked the confident Jamie who was willing to tease him and challenge him and apparently surprise him too. It was a big improvement over the melancholy and frustrated guy he’d gotten glimpses of when Jamie had first come back.

**_guess so_ ** **😊** , he replied, and then locked his phone and slid it into his backpack instead of his pocket on his way out the door, as though the additional layer of separation would help to quarantine the conversation away from the rest of the day. 

He still gave a quick prayer of thanks for his excellent ability to compartmentalize, because it seemed as though he was going to need it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me about this show on [Tumblr](http://skjc-writes.tumblr.com) or the [unofficial Ted Lasso Discord](https://discord.gg/5jDYgUGSbS)!


End file.
